"A married woman celebrates Karwa Chauth with great fervor and dedication, observing a fast and praying for the long life of her husband, the origin of this festival was based on a very sweet and noble idea. Karwa Chauth is very much a social and seasonal festival. The women get up before sunrise and seek the blessings of the gods for longevity and prosperity of their husbands."
LONGEVITY AT A PRICE
"Bless my husband O Lord I pray, keep him safe by night and day",
Every wife chants this prayer day in and day out, but thanks to the popularity of Karwa Chauth, mainly because of Hindi films, even God is convinced that this wish is to be granted only on this auspicious day. Let me enlighten those of you who are not aware of Karwa Chauth. The wife remains thirsty and hungry throughout the day and prays for her husband’s long life and happiness and also prays that they remain a couple forever .If the husband's wishes were taken into consideration, I am sure they would rather that, their wives binge on good food and leave them and this fast alone.
On a typical Karwa Chauth day, the wife gets up before sunrise and has a hearty meal consisting of sweets, fruits, curd, parathas and juice. This is called 'Sargi'. I am also a typical north Indian dutiful wife who prays for her husband's long life everyday but my efforts are recognized only on this D-day. I ask for a box of. Sweets for puja to be performed in the morning and he gets me four boxes knowing my weakness for sweets. I pretend to be annoyed at him but am salivating at the thought of devouring them at 'Sargi'.
After satisfying my hunger in the morning I am ready to go without water and food for the entire day. Thus at sunrise begins the period of pampering for me, and, an ordeal for my hubby dear. On account of my fast I am exempted from kitchen duty for the day. The entire day is like a blur for me, I laze around the whole day, whereas he cooks, cleans, fetches and caters to my every wish and command.
Come evening and I am ravenous, my last meal was at 4 A.M, and now it is 4 p.m. The larger the body volume, the more food it craves and I have a humongous appetite, as my BMI is way above 30. All the wives dress up for the evening puja and some lucky ones have tea or juice afterwards, I have a gallon of tea. By 7.30 p.m. I am starving and stark raving mad with hunger. The only place you see a happy, exquisitely made up pativrata wife draped in a designer sari, bestowing coy looks on her husband and singing a romantic song, is in Hindi movies.Like in the movie, Kabhie Khushi Kabhie Gam, Amitabh, Jaya, Shahrukh khan, Kajol, Hrithik and Kareena dance and sing on Karwa Chauth Day. Although, how can anyone sing and dance after remaining thirsty and hungry the whole day is beyond my comprehension!
Dressed in an old dressing gown, messy hair, and smudged make-up and cranky to the core, that’s ME. I make my ‘Pati’s’ life hell by asking him to go and spot the moon for me so that I can break my fast. After four trips to the terrace, he throws up his hands and hollers, “Don’t you ever pray for me again and no way are you observing “Karwa Chauth” for me next year.”
This cycle is repeated year after year and God willing will go on forever and ever.
Lucks aka Sulekha
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
FOOD HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THE HEART
A woman makes her merry way into a poor guy's heart or rather breezes into it without lifting a finger. It is only after the initial euphoria of love has died down that she needs the help of other traits to ensure that her position in her man's life is not threatened and she can rule over his heart indefinitely. Man is a very simple and predictable species. He can survive on love and fresh air for the initial few years of his marriage.
With the advent of kids and a few other minor hiccups he wakes up from his kumbhkarani slumber and suddenly develops taste buds and an attitude to match. He comes out of his cocoon and demands his basic rights of good food and more of good food. The poor lady of the house is stunned for had she not been making the same soggy rice, lumpy dal, and half burnt chapattis for her man for the past few years? Then how come he suddenly develops taste buds and refuses to eat the healthy nutritious fare she prepares. She is flabbergasted and dumbfounded for hadn't she housebroken and brainwashed her man to be a man and eat up without complaints. Her favorite lines being "Don't leave anything in your plate there are thousands starving in Ethiopia." His prompt reply nowadays is "Parcel this food to them and see how fast it is returned".
To keep the peace in the house she tries to pacify her man and spends a little more time in the kitchen and cuts down on her television viewing. The results are outstanding. The chapattis are edible so are the dal and vegetables. But every action has an equal and opposite reaction hence his midriff starts expanding and love handles become more pronounced. He gains weight and needs to lose it quickly before annual medicals. Immediately starts the cycle of exercise and diet control.
The wife unlearns the puris and the parathas and starts cooking low fat curries and soups. He is grateful for the same and professes to love her more each passing day. So all I can say is, the way to a man's heart may not be through his stomach but once you have possession of his heart, safeguarding it becomes your privileged duty.
Lucks aka Sulekha
With the advent of kids and a few other minor hiccups he wakes up from his kumbhkarani slumber and suddenly develops taste buds and an attitude to match. He comes out of his cocoon and demands his basic rights of good food and more of good food. The poor lady of the house is stunned for had she not been making the same soggy rice, lumpy dal, and half burnt chapattis for her man for the past few years? Then how come he suddenly develops taste buds and refuses to eat the healthy nutritious fare she prepares. She is flabbergasted and dumbfounded for hadn't she housebroken and brainwashed her man to be a man and eat up without complaints. Her favorite lines being "Don't leave anything in your plate there are thousands starving in Ethiopia." His prompt reply nowadays is "Parcel this food to them and see how fast it is returned".
To keep the peace in the house she tries to pacify her man and spends a little more time in the kitchen and cuts down on her television viewing. The results are outstanding. The chapattis are edible so are the dal and vegetables. But every action has an equal and opposite reaction hence his midriff starts expanding and love handles become more pronounced. He gains weight and needs to lose it quickly before annual medicals. Immediately starts the cycle of exercise and diet control.
The wife unlearns the puris and the parathas and starts cooking low fat curries and soups. He is grateful for the same and professes to love her more each passing day. So all I can say is, the way to a man's heart may not be through his stomach but once you have possession of his heart, safeguarding it becomes your privileged duty.
Lucks aka Sulekha
Saturday, February 19, 2011
A 19-hole Golf Course
Golf is a precision club-and-ball sport, in which competing players (golfers), using many types of clubs, attempt to hit balls into each hole on a golf-course while employing the fewest number of strokes. The game is played on golf "courses," each of which features a unique design, although courses typically consist of either nine or 18 holes.”
For all you professional golfers and recreational ones, the topic of my post must be puzzling, to say the least. A 19-hole Golf Course, you must be kidding me!!!
Why don’t I start from the beginning, I love playing golf and have participated in a competition too, long ago, when we used to live in Kochi, Kerala. I was there from 2003 to 2008, five wonderful years in the most beautiful place in India. I still miss the backwaters and boat rides, the greenery and the sense of peace and tranquility of Kochi; monsoons there are amazing.
“For me, the worst part of playing golf, by far, has always been hitting the ball.
Dave barry “
Okay, getting back on track, we had an 18-hole golf course in, practically, our backyard! We used to go for walks around this course and, it was here, on one fine evening, while on our daily walk, we encountered a handsome young man, who smiled at us and exclaimed, “My, What a beauty!!” I was on cloud nine, and blushing a beetroot red, thanked him coyly. My husband gave me a pitying look and I could have sworn that there was an evil glint in his eyes. He acknowledged that handsome stranger’s comment with a 'Thanks', leaving me shocked. Had I been a man and had somebody passed such a remark at my wife, I would have been livid with rage and would have challenged him to a duel, instead of thanking him so politely. So, what was wrong with him?
My dilemma was solved the next minute, when the stranger said,” You must enter her in a dog show”. Oh no... I was so mortified that I wanted to dig a 19th hole on the golf course we were walking in, and bury myself there, like a gopher. My husband’s guffaw still echoes in that Golf Course and I swear, I can hear Sparky’s yelp of glee too. Too late had I remembered that we had had Sparky with us on that fateful day.
Who is Sparky, you ask? She is my darling seven year old Baby Dalmatian, the beauty that the ugly stranger was referring to. Sparky is an enigma, an angel, the darling of our home and my rival, in terms of the affections of my family members. She frantically tries to get the dresser drawer open and crawl into it, trembling with fear, upon hearing the fire-crackers bursting in our locality. She has an acute sense of hearing, like all dogs do, and though she behaves like a scared y cat at times, she is the most beautiful and gentle dog anybody can ever have. She is my baby and the darling baby of the house.
She looks so pretty, with a black patch on the right side of her face, covering one eye and making her look like the female version of Johnny Depp in Pirates of the Caribbean: Jack Sparrow’s Jill Sparrow.
People stop us on the way to the park and shower compliments on Sparky, “She is so pretty”, “You have a beautiful dog”, “She is a darling”, etc…etc.. You do get my drift, right? All this praise has gone to her head and I swear she prances about the house, almost mocking me. When she does, this quote comes to mind.
“Some dogs live for praise. They look at you as if to say "Don't throw balls... just throw bouquets."
Jhordis Anderson “
And to top it all off, recently, my son said something so very damaging to my ego; his exact words were,” Mom, I just realized that I love Sparky the most in this house and my life would have been empty without her in it.”. I gave him my own lost puppy dog look and asked him; "don’t you love me the most?” He replied, “I love you mom, but I love her more.”
Lucks aka Sulekha
Friday, February 18, 2011
Lonely Vigil
She stands alone at the pier, hungrily gazing at the sea.
fists clenched at her sides, unmoving, still stands she.
Her lone, heart breaking constant vigil, invites curious eyes,
Her dark circled eyes reveal, sleepless nights gone by.
The trembling of her lower lip, gives her feelings away,
She shifts from one foot to another, even as she sways.
There is a melancholy beauty in her quiet still frame,
She whispers silent prayers and gently calls out his name.
The crashing of the waves, match her soul’s screaming rage.
Every day, from dawn to dusk, she stands rooted to the shore,
Scanning the empty waters, for the advent of her love.
Her trembling form flutters in the wind, like a torn page
By the time the night falls, her eyes are lifeless black holes.
She trudges back to her tattered hut by the sea,
only to return again tomorrow, with the first light.
She starts her lonely vigil, afresh every morn,
Come rain or shine, she is there, standing forlorn.
She knows he lives, because she can feel his heart beat in hers,
She wills him to face all odds and come rushing back to her.
One morning, the sun is up and she is not to be seen,
People wonder where she could be, she is never late,
The sun can be a little late but, she never has ever been.
The open flap of her hut reveals, her unmoving, silent frame,
With imploring eyes and her palms outstretched in vain.
Sometime during the night, she had heard her love gasp,
Had felt his breath leave his body, heard his agonizing screams,
Had desperately tried to stop, death from taking his soul away,
she had begged him so much, implored to let her love stay.
But death is no angel of mercy but a slayer of dreams.
He had mocked her pleas and fervent requests,
and taken away her beloved’s last gasping breath.
It was then that she herself had relinquished her,
flimsy hold on life, if he was no more in this world,
She didn’t want to be alone here, she didn’t want to survive.
Lucks aka Sulekha
fists clenched at her sides, unmoving, still stands she.
Her lone, heart breaking constant vigil, invites curious eyes,
Her dark circled eyes reveal, sleepless nights gone by.
The trembling of her lower lip, gives her feelings away,
She shifts from one foot to another, even as she sways.
There is a melancholy beauty in her quiet still frame,
She whispers silent prayers and gently calls out his name.
The crashing of the waves, match her soul’s screaming rage.
Every day, from dawn to dusk, she stands rooted to the shore,
Scanning the empty waters, for the advent of her love.
Her trembling form flutters in the wind, like a torn page
By the time the night falls, her eyes are lifeless black holes.
She trudges back to her tattered hut by the sea,
only to return again tomorrow, with the first light.
She starts her lonely vigil, afresh every morn,
Come rain or shine, she is there, standing forlorn.
She knows he lives, because she can feel his heart beat in hers,
She wills him to face all odds and come rushing back to her.
One morning, the sun is up and she is not to be seen,
People wonder where she could be, she is never late,
The sun can be a little late but, she never has ever been.
The open flap of her hut reveals, her unmoving, silent frame,
With imploring eyes and her palms outstretched in vain.
Sometime during the night, she had heard her love gasp,
Had felt his breath leave his body, heard his agonizing screams,
Had desperately tried to stop, death from taking his soul away,
she had begged him so much, implored to let her love stay.
But death is no angel of mercy but a slayer of dreams.
He had mocked her pleas and fervent requests,
and taken away her beloved’s last gasping breath.
It was then that she herself had relinquished her,
flimsy hold on life, if he was no more in this world,
She didn’t want to be alone here, she didn’t want to survive.
Lucks aka Sulekha
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Chastity Garters and Miracle Bras
“Laughter is the best medicine”, and I am thankful to the newspapers for keeping me in the pink of health, by providing me with my daily dose of funnies. Two news articles caught my eyes today morning, it’s evening and I am still laughing. The first one was about a ‘Chastity Garter’, that warns men of cheating girl friends/wives.
According to Wikipedia, “Garters are articles of clothing narrow bands of fabric fastened about the leg, used to keep stockings up. Normally just a few inches in width, they are usually made of leather or heavy cloth, and adorned with small bells and/or ribbons.”
“A Chastity Garter that sends men a text message if their girl-friends or wives try to cheat on them. The garter monitors rising pulse rate as well as surface moisture levels on the skin and when these apparent signals of sexual stimulation occur, a text message is sent to alert the woman’s husband/boy-friend. The woman can’t take off the garter without an automatic text message being sent. Edward and Lucinda Hale, are the brains behind this idea, they came up with this after infidelity threatened their relationship. They wanted to come up with something, for removing the temptation by making straying impossible.”
First, I want to congratulate this wonderful couple for their invention and second I want to say, what were you thinking of? What kind of a sick joke is this? Are we living in the 21st century? Why not a chastity guard for men, to monitor their pulse rate and surface moisture levels, among other things?
I mean, I am appalled at this news item. Imagine a young lady, who is so in love with this suspicious guy, happens to be wearing this contraption, though why anyone in their right minds would do such a thing, for arguments sake lets imagine her wearing it. While watching an epic romance, her pulse rate increases, mine does whenever I am watching a romantic movie, and her surface moisture levels rises, her husband who is in the middle of an important presentation, gets a text message saying,” Your wife is planning to cheat on you, rush home before she acts on her crazy impulse”. He drops the remote, mumbles an apology to the foreign investors, who are thinking of investing in this company. Our man tells them, my wife is about to cheat on me, I have to go home now, not realizing that by the time he makes the 45 minute drive back home, the act would have been committed and all evidence removed from the scene of crime except the Chastity Garter. The surface moisture levels can be explained any which way. So much for the wonder invention!!!
Another flaw in this is, what if the wife/girl-friend decides to go swimming, or falls into a lake, will she get electrocuted or will her garter start screaming, “Cheating woman.” What if the husband is stuck in such a place where there is no signal, no network? The woman can’t take off the garter without an automatic text message being sent, so she waits endlessly for his text, which will take a long time coming.
They wanted to come up with something, for removing the temptation by making straying impossible. Apparently, they had not heard of this famous quote by Oscar Wilde,
“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. ~Oscar Wilde,”
The second news item headline was,” Just clap to unhook this Bra”, another howler. “Randy Sarafan, a US engineer, has invented a bra clasp that comes off when you clap your hands. Metropolitan in the UK reported that, this is an answer to millions of men and women who struggle with unhooking bra clasps. Sarafan was inspired to make this after reading about wacky electronic undergarments, sold in Syria, like musical Knickers.”
"Those of us in Western cultures have a thing or two to learn from the Syrians about gaudy electronic lingerie. Henceforth, it became my mission to fast-forward lingerie technology in the West," The Daily Telegraph quoted him as saying.
Okay, with all due respect, what is this? It brings to mind, a nursery rhyme that I used to recite in school, if you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands. With this invention, the rhyme will go, if you want to be happy, go where there are a lot of women, and clap your hands.
You will suddenly find bras of all shapes and sizes, makes and materials, flying about, like autumn leaves. It will be raining Bras, thanks to the simple act of clapping our hands. I know it’s a bit extreme, but you do get my point, right? Another scenario, you are attending a formal dinner with your boy friend and are wearing a low-cut designer gown, the chief guest finishes his speech and everybody claps, you, and a few other women, clutch your bosoms, why? Because your bras snapped open.
Every day, there will be hundreds of women, wearing this wonder bra, so that their boy friends don’t have to struggle with the clasps, and while out there, if some body clapped, they would be left clutching on to their tops and dignity.
We are becoming a lazy nation, full of lazy people. We already have toilets with automatic spray jets, hand dryers; very soon we will have automatic pants-pull downers, so that we just stand in the washroom and have our pants drop.
“So many tangles in life are ultimately hopeless that we have no appropriate sword other than laughter. ~Gordon W. Allport”
Lucks aka Sulekha
According to Wikipedia, “Garters are articles of clothing narrow bands of fabric fastened about the leg, used to keep stockings up. Normally just a few inches in width, they are usually made of leather or heavy cloth, and adorned with small bells and/or ribbons.”
“A Chastity Garter that sends men a text message if their girl-friends or wives try to cheat on them. The garter monitors rising pulse rate as well as surface moisture levels on the skin and when these apparent signals of sexual stimulation occur, a text message is sent to alert the woman’s husband/boy-friend. The woman can’t take off the garter without an automatic text message being sent. Edward and Lucinda Hale, are the brains behind this idea, they came up with this after infidelity threatened their relationship. They wanted to come up with something, for removing the temptation by making straying impossible.”
First, I want to congratulate this wonderful couple for their invention and second I want to say, what were you thinking of? What kind of a sick joke is this? Are we living in the 21st century? Why not a chastity guard for men, to monitor their pulse rate and surface moisture levels, among other things?
I mean, I am appalled at this news item. Imagine a young lady, who is so in love with this suspicious guy, happens to be wearing this contraption, though why anyone in their right minds would do such a thing, for arguments sake lets imagine her wearing it. While watching an epic romance, her pulse rate increases, mine does whenever I am watching a romantic movie, and her surface moisture levels rises, her husband who is in the middle of an important presentation, gets a text message saying,” Your wife is planning to cheat on you, rush home before she acts on her crazy impulse”. He drops the remote, mumbles an apology to the foreign investors, who are thinking of investing in this company. Our man tells them, my wife is about to cheat on me, I have to go home now, not realizing that by the time he makes the 45 minute drive back home, the act would have been committed and all evidence removed from the scene of crime except the Chastity Garter. The surface moisture levels can be explained any which way. So much for the wonder invention!!!
Another flaw in this is, what if the wife/girl-friend decides to go swimming, or falls into a lake, will she get electrocuted or will her garter start screaming, “Cheating woman.” What if the husband is stuck in such a place where there is no signal, no network? The woman can’t take off the garter without an automatic text message being sent, so she waits endlessly for his text, which will take a long time coming.
They wanted to come up with something, for removing the temptation by making straying impossible. Apparently, they had not heard of this famous quote by Oscar Wilde,
“The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. ~Oscar Wilde,”
The second news item headline was,” Just clap to unhook this Bra”, another howler. “Randy Sarafan, a US engineer, has invented a bra clasp that comes off when you clap your hands. Metropolitan in the UK reported that, this is an answer to millions of men and women who struggle with unhooking bra clasps. Sarafan was inspired to make this after reading about wacky electronic undergarments, sold in Syria, like musical Knickers.”
"Those of us in Western cultures have a thing or two to learn from the Syrians about gaudy electronic lingerie. Henceforth, it became my mission to fast-forward lingerie technology in the West," The Daily Telegraph quoted him as saying.
Okay, with all due respect, what is this? It brings to mind, a nursery rhyme that I used to recite in school, if you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands. With this invention, the rhyme will go, if you want to be happy, go where there are a lot of women, and clap your hands.
You will suddenly find bras of all shapes and sizes, makes and materials, flying about, like autumn leaves. It will be raining Bras, thanks to the simple act of clapping our hands. I know it’s a bit extreme, but you do get my point, right? Another scenario, you are attending a formal dinner with your boy friend and are wearing a low-cut designer gown, the chief guest finishes his speech and everybody claps, you, and a few other women, clutch your bosoms, why? Because your bras snapped open.
Every day, there will be hundreds of women, wearing this wonder bra, so that their boy friends don’t have to struggle with the clasps, and while out there, if some body clapped, they would be left clutching on to their tops and dignity.
We are becoming a lazy nation, full of lazy people. We already have toilets with automatic spray jets, hand dryers; very soon we will have automatic pants-pull downers, so that we just stand in the washroom and have our pants drop.
“So many tangles in life are ultimately hopeless that we have no appropriate sword other than laughter. ~Gordon W. Allport”
Lucks aka Sulekha
Monday, February 14, 2011
Ramblings of a soul
When will you understand my love?
When will you listen to, what I am saying,
and understand, what I am not saying?
When will you see, what I am hiding?
When will you know, what I mean by,
what I am not trying to convey?
When I pretend to be angry with you,
I want you to do your damnest,
to coax me into smiling at you.
When I walk away in a huff,
I long for you to run after me,
And bring me back to you.
When you look into my unsmiling eyes,
I want you to sense my sorrow,
And chase my cares away.
When I try and choke back my tears,
I need you to hold me close,
say nothing, but just be there with me.
When I say,” I hate you,”
I want you to say,” I love you too”.
I don’t know what I need,
But I want you, to understand.
Lucks
When will you listen to, what I am saying,
and understand, what I am not saying?
When will you see, what I am hiding?
When will you know, what I mean by,
what I am not trying to convey?
When I pretend to be angry with you,
I want you to do your damnest,
to coax me into smiling at you.
When I walk away in a huff,
I long for you to run after me,
And bring me back to you.
When you look into my unsmiling eyes,
I want you to sense my sorrow,
And chase my cares away.
When I try and choke back my tears,
I need you to hold me close,
say nothing, but just be there with me.
When I say,” I hate you,”
I want you to say,” I love you too”.
I don’t know what I need,
But I want you, to understand.
Lucks
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Mute Witness to a Murder
Why do I feel responsible? Why can’t I rest easy at night? I didn’t kill anyone; I was only a mute witness to a brutal murder. But then, I didn’t do anything to prevent it, so, in a way, I am guilty too.
“Help!” Someone, please help me, don’t let her touch me. She will spray me on her multi-layered, stinking, sweaty body and I will choke to death.”
These were the terrified words I had heard when I had walked into the powder room and seen Mrs. Makhija, dressing up to go to the mall. She is a middle-aged, obese woman and insists on wearing synthetic Saris and heavy gold jewelery 24/7. Be it any occasion, while going shopping, visiting friends, on her trip to the temple, all the time, she is heavily made up and swathed in shiny, blingy cheap nylon saris.
It’s a common saying that, “The more load you carry, the more you sweat.” Mrs. Makhija is about 120kgs light and has rivulets of perspiration, dripping from her forehead to her toes, at all times. To counter the body odor, she went and bought a deo-spray, which looks sleek and cool and is frightfully expensive.
Now, coming back to the screams for help. This morning, I had been a guest at Pinky Makhija’s place, and while dressing up to go out, I had heard the body-spray cry out for help. Pink’s mom, Mrs. Makhija, oblivious to the plight of the deo , had been liberally spraying her neck, and hairy under-arms, with the fresh smelling life-saving spray and in the process, had been, smothering and choking the same.
Eventually, the cries and pleas had faded into silence and I had accompanied Pinky and Mrs. Makhija to the mall. There was a niggling ache in my heart; I had not done anything to stop Mrs. Makhija from murdering the poor innocent Deo-Spray. But every man for himself, had I tried to save the spray, I would have choked to death on the toxic fumes, emanating from Mrs. Makhija’s umpteen layers of flab.
Lucks aka Sulekha
P.s. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
“Help!” Someone, please help me, don’t let her touch me. She will spray me on her multi-layered, stinking, sweaty body and I will choke to death.”
These were the terrified words I had heard when I had walked into the powder room and seen Mrs. Makhija, dressing up to go to the mall. She is a middle-aged, obese woman and insists on wearing synthetic Saris and heavy gold jewelery 24/7. Be it any occasion, while going shopping, visiting friends, on her trip to the temple, all the time, she is heavily made up and swathed in shiny, blingy cheap nylon saris.
It’s a common saying that, “The more load you carry, the more you sweat.” Mrs. Makhija is about 120kgs light and has rivulets of perspiration, dripping from her forehead to her toes, at all times. To counter the body odor, she went and bought a deo-spray, which looks sleek and cool and is frightfully expensive.
Now, coming back to the screams for help. This morning, I had been a guest at Pinky Makhija’s place, and while dressing up to go out, I had heard the body-spray cry out for help. Pink’s mom, Mrs. Makhija, oblivious to the plight of the deo , had been liberally spraying her neck, and hairy under-arms, with the fresh smelling life-saving spray and in the process, had been, smothering and choking the same.
Eventually, the cries and pleas had faded into silence and I had accompanied Pinky and Mrs. Makhija to the mall. There was a niggling ache in my heart; I had not done anything to stop Mrs. Makhija from murdering the poor innocent Deo-Spray. But every man for himself, had I tried to save the spray, I would have choked to death on the toxic fumes, emanating from Mrs. Makhija’s umpteen layers of flab.
Lucks aka Sulekha
P.s. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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